Well, on the plus side, hitting the woman in the head had made her stop yelling. On the downside, now she was crying almost as loudly.

"What in Xeshm's name is going on in here!?"

"If any of you scream one more time, I'll gag all of you!"

The moment the door burst open, Rel immediately dove back into the corner of her cage, conspiring to look as innocent —and draw as little attention to herself— as possible. Above all, she avoided making any eye-contact with the ram-horned guard.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder: who, or what, was 'Xeshm'? It wasn't any God she had ever heard of...

"I should not be here. I can't be here. I'm missing afternoon tea!"

"When we reach the pits, tea won't be all you're missing."

... Pits? She had no idea what 'the pits' were, though the more cynical part of her mind was of the opinion that anything with that name probably wasn't a place that she wanted to end up in, and she couldn't exactly disagree.

"You're a slave now, wench. Though perhaps you're more used to the term 'servant.' I imagine you won't last long. In any case, shut your bawling or I swear I'll gag you myself, and all your other smelly friends, here."

"Can you eat with those things on your hands?"

"Wha—?" she stuttered, caught off-guard by the question, glancing down at the black manacles on her wrists. She was immediately torn with indecision: on the one hand, her bowl was empty, and if she was caught lying things could be worse for her; on the other hand, the dragon-horned guard had... saved?... her before, and if she could get him to take the cuffs off, she might be able to escape —that is, if she was correct in assuming they were the reason he gift didn't work.

In the end, she compromised a bit. "N-not very well..." she replied, hesitantly, after a few moments —which delay could easily be explained away by nervousness, given the situation—, her soft voice trembling slightly.

Suddenly, the ship lurched. Rel, who had spent substantial portions of her life in and around boats, kept her balance with ease —though the woman in the cage beside her didn't seem to fare so well. She could hear the wind and waves picking up in intensity outside, and the roar of thunder; a storm was coming.

The extra rocking didn't bother her stomach as of yet —she hadn't been seasick since she was very young; but, then, that had been in smaller open-topped boats, where you could see the water and had fresh air. This... this might be something else altogether, and she could only hope that her constitution was up to the challenge....

The guards spoke and threatened, the noble pleaded, the ship lurched and all stumbled. None of which was noticed by Vilk. His world had frozen and focused on one thing. Or rather, the lack of one thing.

Where Vilk's map should be there was instead an empty void.

Slowly the world came back into focus, Vilk's eyes filled with cold hate. Before where he'd imagined killing the guards it'd been a sort of reassurence for himself, no real intent behind the imagination. Now though, now he fully intended to murder the armored men. No one would steal Vilk's treasure.

But though Vilk most certainly was an idiot, he was no fool where it came to the subtle arts of theiving and murder. He had time, he knew that, and lashing out now would only get him killed. First he needed to get out of this cell, so as discreatly as possible he examined the room and the guards for anythig at all that could aid in his escape. A loose nail, a key on the guards belt, the make of the lock, anything, he looked for it all.

"You're a slave now, wench," said the guard with the silly horns on his helmet, approaching her cell. [n]"Though perhaps you're more used to the term 'servant.' I imagine you won't last long. In any case, shut your bawling or I swear I'll gag you myself, and all your other smelly friends, here."[/b]

"Wench? Wench?! Sir, I don't know the meaning of the word!"

She really didn't.

But before she could clarify, the ship lurched, and her balance (poor in the best of circumstances) gave way. She toppled, tripping on her dress, and smacking her face into the bowl of gunk that had already stained her dress. His mouth and nostrils filled with the vile paste, and more than a bit landed on her tongue. Her delicate palette could not take it! She opened her mouth to cry, breathed in, sucked more of the gunk into her mouth, choked, coughed, and repeated.

Eventually, she realized she needed to wipe her face with, of all things, her hands. Her nails, the same luxurious green of her dress, would never be the same.

But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no. The worst was the sight she saw when she wiped her eyes. The man with the pointier horns was talking to the woman in the other cell, and he was being, of all things, kind to her! Gertrude didn't even know this girl's name, let alone what could make her appealing to a talking helmet. There she was, being all bashful and 'oh no sir, I can't eat with my hands in this cuffs, maybe you should use your mouth to feed me!' and here was Gertrude, a real woman of the higher class, reduced to wearing her meal rather than having these men throwing themselves at her feet to beg a glance. This was worse than unfair.

This was an insult.

And two could play at that game.

The one with the funny horns laughed at her, and Gertrude knew enough to know that she should always share in a man's merriment. She joined in, and continued long after the man finished. She picked herself up, wiped her face off, and did her best seductive smile.

"Why don't you let me out of this cage, and I can make you laugh again?"

While the sudden lurch had caught her off guard in the most inopportune of moments, Charlotte's experience aboard ships saved her from crashing too badly. The same could not be said for the poor pixie Daria, however, who was at the mercy of her lantern prison. It smashed down next to Charlotte, and the vampire had to duck to the side to avoid the glass shards that flew her way. She froze and listened, hoping not to hear feet stomping immediately their way. Thankfully, it seemed there would be at least a brief moment before the guards came to check on them. A short window of opportunity to devise a plan of escape.

This wasn't the first time Charlotte had been in a situation like this, and she already had an idea to make things a bit easier when it came time to leave. She figured that if she could at least get outside in her bat form, she could then transform again into a man-bat and fly to the shore which had been promised by the walrus' call. It would be more difficult to fly in a storm, but it might be her only hope in such dire circumstance.

But first, she checked on the pixie. To her surprise, however, Daria was not in the shattered remains of her lantern. "Daria!" Charlotte whispered as loudly as she dared, "Are you okay? Please don't be scared... I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear! I just... got carried away with pretty-eyes. He's not dead. Not yet. I need you to look after him... Answer me, please!"

What could have been a quick getaway was interrupted by Daria’s worst nightmare. However, much to her surprise, the pixie was spoken to rather than… well, eaten, like Carver had been. Albeit Whitefoam imagined her end would be significantly messier, with her tiny body crushed between-

"Daria!" Charlotte whispered as loudly as she dared, "Are you okay? Please don't be scared... I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear! I just... got carried away with pretty-eyes. He's not dead. Not yet. I need you to look after him... Answer me, please!"

What if she’s lying? Daria thought, her mind racing as she glanced briefly at the male pirate’s corpse. At least, she was pretty sure he was dead. She hadn’t really seen a dead body before, but being significantly paler than usual and not moving seemed to be two major things dead people probably shared with Carver right now. And what did Charlotte mean by ‘carried away’, anyway? What had she done to him, exactly? Would the vampire eat her, too, if she got the chance?

On the other hand, if Charlotte didn’t eat her, she might just eat the guards, or something. Maybe that one that held me by my wing, too. Daria thought, gritting her teeth as the remembered the anguish that man had put her through. The pixie’s tiny hands clenched, and she was so busy thinking she didn’t realize she’d begun pacing, doing so enough that she stepped out of cover and out where the vampire could see her. Not easily, though, considering Whitefoam had extinguished her glow, leaving the room in almost total darkness.

Finally, though, the pixie ran her hands through her brunette curls, sighing and turning to Charlotte, purposely stepping out into the open.

“You’ve got a minute to prove it.” Whitefoam said, trying to swallow her fear. Her tone was thick with her nervousness, though, and even their difference in size couldn’t hide the fact Daria looked ready to bolt the second the vampire made one wrong move.

"You’ve got a minute to prove it." Whitefoam said, trying to swallow her fear. Her tone was thick with her nervousness, though, and even their difference in size couldn’t hide the fact Daria looked ready to bolt the second the vampire made one wrong move.

"Oh, thank goodness you're alive!" Charlotte sighed in relief, though she held her hands up with palms out, as non-threatening as possible. "Look, there's not really any time to explain..." she began, but decided to take a risk and just admit everything to the pixie, "Look, I'm... a vampire, you see. It's not something I ever aspired to, or would have wanted, it just sort of happened to me. I try to make the best of it, and I am trying to do the right thing now."

She stood up and started to undress again, slowly so as not to frighten Daria. "I can transform into a bat, and also... something else, but that's not important." Her words were coming rapidly, though still very quietly. Charlotte figured it was probably too much for the poor pixie to take in all at once, but it was all she could do. "You heard my wings earlier when I changed to get out of the chains, and pretty-eyes... I think he saw me, or at least, part of my change back to normal. My clothes don't change with me, so I had to get dressed again, but I have a plan now."

Folding the clothes as she removed them, Charlotte began to stash the garments on the body of the man who's blood she'd drank. Her outfit didn't consist of many pieces, so this went rather quickly. "I'm going to transform back into a bat and hide when they come to check the room, and I'm gonna help you hide, too. When they see us gone without a trace, they'll probably storm off the search the ship, and between that panic and the storm, I can probably get away..." Her expression turned guilty as she clearly left out any details about a means of escape for either Daria or the pirate...

"It had been so long since last time I fed, and I was weak, and... " the vampire blurted, "something about his blood was - is - sort of incredible, I just couldn't stop. But he's still alive, and he needs help if he's going to stay that way. He needs to be looked after, protected. Do you think you can do that for me? For him?"

"Oh, thank goodness you're alive!" Charlotte sighed in relief when Daria revealed herself, though she held her hands up with palms out, as non-threatening as possible. "Look, there's not really any time to explain..." she began, but decided to take a risk and just admit everything to the pixie, "Look, I'm... a vampire, you see. It's not something I ever aspired to, or would have wanted, it just sort of happened to me. I try to make the best of it, and I am trying to do the right thing now."

Vampire. The word wasn’t completely foreign to the pixie, surprisingly. When she was aboard her last ship, the human pirates had sometimes mentioned vampires, though that was rare, and details were rarer. All Daria knew was that vampires were no good, violent, and apparently drank blood. All of which Charlotte had showed to be true.

Well, too a point. Whitefoam felt Charlotte was telling the truth… at least, to a point.

At any rate, the comparatively giant woman stood up and started to undress again, slow enough to leave Daria wondering just what preference she had. "I can transform into a bat, and also... something else, but that's not important." Her words were coming rapidly, though still very quietly. "You heard my wings earlier when I changed to get out of the chains, and pretty-eyes... I think he saw me, or at least, part of my change back to normal. My clothes don't change with me, so I had to get dressed again, but I have a plan now."

Charlotte began to stash the garments on the body of the man whose blood she'd drank. Her outfit didn't consist of many pieces, so this went rather quickly. "I'm going to transform back into a bat and hide when they come to check the room, and I'm gonna help you hide, too. When they see us gone without a trace, they'll probably storm off the search the ship, and between that panic and the storm, I can probably get away..." Her expression turned guilty, and Daria frowned as she failed to mention what would happen to herself or Carver, instead changing the subject.

"It had been so long since last time I fed, and I was weak, and... " the vampire blurted, "something about his blood was - is - sort of incredible, I just couldn't stop. But he's still alive, and he needs help if he's going to stay that way. He needs to be looked after, protected. Do you think you can do that for me? For him?"

The pixe looked at herself, looked at Charlotte, and then walked over to his foot to measure herself in comparison to him. “Can your toe protect a ‘sleeping’ human?” She asked, crossing her arms. “If you care about me and ‘pretty-eyes’ so much, why aren’t you making plans for us to get out? ‘Cause I can’t take care of more than myself.” Daria pointed out.

"You seem to be eating well enough," said the dragon-horned guard with the crest of spikes, once the ship had righted itself enough for him to stand upright. He turned to the other guard, about to speak, but Gertrude spoke first.

"Why don't you let me out of this cage, and I can make you laugh again?"

The ram-horned guard stared for half a second - before he did indeed laugh again. "You're quite adept at amusing me right where you are," he replied.

Meanwhile, Vilk looked around the room. He saw that the guard with ram-like horns on his helm had a ring of keys on his belt, but it didn't look like they would be terribly easy to pickpocket... especially since he couldn't reach them from here, anyway. The guard seemed to be aware of the fact that a prisoner would want to reach out and grab them any second.

However, Vilk also saw something else: some of the boards near one back wall of his cell looked rather wet and loose. In fact, they were starting to rot. If he tried, he may be able to break through them or pry them apart just using his hands... And he could smell bilge, which hinted that he could gain access to the bilge deck.

---

Charlotte, Daria

While Daria and Charlotte talked, heavy footsteps pounded toward the door. Immediately, Charlotte reassumed her bat form, while Daria looked around for a place to hide - and saw an odd little hole to one side of the room. The two of them slipped inside and lay low in the shadows just in time for the door to the room to burst open.

In stepped a guard, one of the same helmed ones as had always checked on them before. He immediately looked at Carver, saying something in his strange language they didn't understand as he drew his sword and stepped forward, crouching to examine the pirate's pale body. The guard looked at the bite wound in Carver's neck before he said something else, no doubt a curse, and got to his feet, looking around the room before he charged back out into the hall, shouting things as he went.

---

Everyone

Further chaos was added to the ship as the shouting of a guard rang through all the lower decks. In Gertrude, Vilk, Dgurritz, and Rel's room, the two guards didn't say a word before they both turned and ran back outside, closing the door behind them. Voices were breaking out all across the ship. Something on board was wrong - and it wasn't just the storm that still tossed them about.

Oooh, it was working! Her seductive, feminine wiles were making this guard positively feet under head in love with her! She found herself wondering what kind of man would be underneath such a thick helm. Perhaps a lost soul, with a dark past that he struggled to get away from! Or, worse, what if he had a sister held captive by the others on the boat? She and the sister could become such fast friends, upon her rescue of course, and Gertrude would be whisked away to a life of parties, money, and food! Oh, how--

A shout, hoarse, broke through their love-at-first-laugh moment. Gertrude pouted at the man she was winning over ran out of the room, once more plunging them into semi-darkness.

Charlotte had barely had enough time to transform and get out of sight before the guard had burst in. She'd ducked into the hole right behind Daria, and waited in silence with the pixie as the strange man-like-being had searched the room, looked over their fellow prisoner, and then left, shouting. The whole time, the vampire had kept one of her leathery wings wrapped protectively around the only-slightly-smaller pixie, holding her fellow pirate close to her warm, fuzzy body.

"That went better than expected." she breathed, once the guard ran off, "Are you sure you're alright?" Charlotte asked again, trying to get a better look at the pixie now that she was nearly the same size, and could better inspect her for any wounds from her fall.

Dgurritz almost sighed with releif as the guards left the room. If he was lucky, and it was very rare for lady luck to smile on him, then one of the other prisoners had broken out, and hopefully would come and rescue them.

The keys on the guard were easy enough to spot but it was not something Vilk could possibly hope to reach from his cell. The guard was simply not close enough to Vilk's aggravation. So Vilk kept looking and quickly lay his eyes on some of the boards near one back wall of his cell that looked rather wet and loose. He could smell bilge from them, suggesting that if he pried them open he could perhaps squeeze his way through to the bilge deck. Not that Vilk knew what a bilge deck was, or bilge for that matter. All he knew was that the planks was loose and he could smell water that smelled a lot like the sewers from home underneath them.

All positives in Vilks mind.

Vilk returned his wandering eyes to the guards still in the room, thinking as hard as he could -not very- of a way to make them leave. As luck would have it the issue resolved itself when shouts could be heard coming elsewhere, sparing Vilk from a thought induced headache when the armored men hurriedly left the room.

Grinning in satisfaction Vilk scurried over to the rooting plank, sinking his claws in them and pulled with all his strenght. Which, again, wasn't much as far as rat-men were concerned.

Daria’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized someone was approaching the closet, and she dashed for a small hole in the room that she’d noticed before. As she slid into cover, though, something else wooshed in, wrapping a leathery, flat limb around her and pulling her into a somewhat warm and surprisingly comfortable grip. Still, vivid memories of the sound of Charlotte’s wings, followed by her murdering - as far as Whitefoam knew, anyway - Carver rather ruined the otherwise snug hug the vampire bat.

Fortunately for Charlotte, though, the guard burst into the small room before the pixie had a chance to apply her fists. Daria froze, watching the armored slaver check around before rushing off and shouting. As Charlotte watching him go, Whitefoam shoved away from the vampire bat, still not trusting her to stay away from her own throat.

"That went better than expected." She breathed, once the guard ran off, "Are you sure you're alright?" Charlotte asked again, trying to get a better look at the pixie, apparently. Daria kept a good distance between them, though, her eyes darting around for a her-sized weapon.

“I’m fine.” Whitefoam decided, not bothering to check herself. With the adrenaline rush she had flowing through her, the pixie couldn’t really tell if she was hurt otherwise.. “What are we doing about ‘pretty-eyes’?” She demanded quickly, knowing their time was rapidly running out.

Adriana began to tug on the object wedged between the boards and she pulled out a surprisingly sharp utensil. It looked like it had once been a knife, but it was old and the handle was broken short. The blade, however, was mostly intact... and still sharp. It didn't look like much for a weapon, but if she could get a guard close enough, the blade was certainly thin and sharp enough to slide between plate armor and cause some serious damage.

Adriana grinned wickedly and brandished the blade to the others. "Options," She safely tucked the shank away in her boot, hidden but ready to draw at a moment's notice.

The elf still seemed content to make small talk, as did the others. "Either of you have names? I mean... we don't need to get to know each other, but for what it's worth. I'm Jordan."

The Dryad hid a smile before saying "I think introductions can wait until we get out of here, or at least until we can ungag you."

Adriana scoffed at them. "Sure, Shrubhead, then maybe we can have a lovely tea party and commune with your forest friends and the elf's fishy family, get to know each other real well."

Dewitt paused as the ship lurched, and screams carried from multiple points across the ship. A storm was upon them, and something was afoot.

"Listen," Adriana spoke to all of them as she picked up the rat skeleton in her cage, inspecting the bones. "These Slavers don't care about our names, or who we are, or what we want." Dewitt pulled out the rat's, long thin forearm bones and set the rest of it down. "They're gonna take us and leave all of us at the mercy of whatever sick freak they sell us too, for whatever psychotic whims strike their fancy." Adriana leaned against the door of her cell and inspected the lock, frowning. "Your name doesn't mean a thing to those kinds of people. You're just a plaything, a toy they'll torment till long after it's broken."

Adriana slipped her hands through the bars and inserted the bones into the lock, twisting and turning them and trying to pick it.

"If you're content with living a short, miserable life like that, keep on talking. Or," Dewitt offered as she worked. "The guards seem rather preoccupied with the storm and then some, maybe some other prisoners fighting back. So instead of playing nice and introducing ourselves, why don't you actually start trying to escape. Cause right now, we're all just nameless, worthless things."

"But if we get out," Captain Dewitt stared at each of them in turn, her eyes blazing. "We can make our names the last thing they'll ever know."

"Listen... These Slavers don't care about our names, or who we are, or what we want. They're gonna take us and leave all of us at the mercy of whatever sick freak they sell us too, for whatever psychotic whims strike their fancy. Your name doesn't mean a thing to those kinds of people. You're just a plaything, a toy they'll torment till long after it's broken."

"I guess you can go from calling me on my negative opinion to making your own in a flash can't you?" Jordan was trying to mask the fact that she was right. He was a slave, and these people would give him to the highest bidder and not have a shred of remorse. Jordan could feel that the seas were shaken, this was no storm he hadn't felt before, but something was still off.

"If you're content with living a short, miserable life like that, keep on talking. Or,"the woman offered as she worked. "The guards seem rather preoccupied with the storm and then some, maybe some other prisoners fighting back. So instead of playing nice and introducing ourselves, why don't you actually start trying to escape. Cause right now, we're all just nameless, worthless things."

I just wanted to let someone know my name before popping the question of 'hey! Wanna murder our captors in cold blood, strangled I've never seen before?' "As much as I would like to help, I'll probably just screw up or kill myself. I'm like the one guy in every horror tome that ends up left behind in the dungeon. I'm not resourceful or low enough to pick a lock with something that ate whoever was in my cell before me," he added, standing from where he was seated. "But complaining won't help either..."

"But if we get out, We can make our names the last thing they'll ever know."

"Enough romance and drama on the high seas, let's just get out of here." Jordan began looking about his cell, if he was lucky, he might find something useful other then his mouth.

"I think introductions can wait until we get out of here, or at least until we can ungag you."

Kyra gave her a look that said: ‘what the hell did you think I was getting at, branch-head?’

Adriana was more than helpful in assisting getting the message across, though. "Sure, Shrubhead, then maybe we can have a lovely tea party and commune with your forest friends and the elf's fishy family, get to know each other real well."

Screams and shouts echoed across the ship eerily, but the room they were in fell silent, briefly. Gustin sighed, turning away from her bars and pacing around the cage. However, the human began to speak again, causing the siren to pause. She was beginning to respect the girl by this point, after all.

"Listen," Adriana spoke to all of them as she picked up the rat skeleton in her cage, inspecting the bones. "These Slavers don't care about our names, or who we are, or what we want. They're gonna take us and leave all of us at the mercy of whatever sick freak they sell us too, for whatever psychotic whims strike their fancy." Adriana leaned against the door of her cell and inspected the lock, frowning, as she peeled the skeleton apart. "Your name doesn't mean a thing to those kinds of people. You're just a plaything, a toy they'll torment till long after it's broken."

"I guess you can go from calling me on my negative opinion to making your own in a flash can't you?" The elf offered sarcastically, earning him a glare from Kyra.

"If you're content with living a short, miserable life like that, keep on talking. Or," Dewitt offered as she worked on the lock of her cell… with the bones of a rat. That turned Gustin’s stomach a little. "The guards seem rather preoccupied with the storm and then some, maybe some other prisoners fighting back. So instead of playing nice and introducing ourselves, why don't you actually start trying to escape. Cause right now, we're all just nameless, worthless things."

The siren nodded in agreement, starting to avidly search her cell for something… anything remotely useful. Adriana’s use of a rat skeleton for lockpicks was nothing short of inspiring for the beastwoman.

"As much as I would like to help, I'll probably just screw up or kill myself. I'm like the one guy in every horror tome that ends up left behind in the dungeon. I'm not resourceful or low enough to pick a lock with something that ate whoever was in my cell before me," he added, standing from where he was seated. "But complaining won't help either..."

“Mrh.” Kyra retorted, not gracing him with a look this time.

"But if we get out," Captain Dewitt interjected, causing the siren to glance at her. She smiled at the determined look in the human’s eyes, her own matching every ounce of energy within them. "We can make our names the last thing they'll ever know."

Kyra nodded punctually, continuing her search and ignoring the frankly stupid-sounding elf in his cage. He seemed to be looking for stuff, though. Finally.

Rel said nothing, simply lowering her gaze. It had been a long shot...

But, deep inside her, a spark of anger burned. Yes, she could eat well enough... for an animal.

She was distracted from her thoughts as what sounded like one of the guards started shouting, and the pair in the room with her promptly turned and ran out. Something was wrong...

'Forget what might be going wrong' came the more sensible voice in her head. 'Think about what could go right! If all the guards are distracted, maybe you have an opportunity to escape!'

Indeed, from the scrabbling noises across the room —which turned out to be the rat-man apparently trying to burrow through the floor of his cage—, it seemed at least one of the others she was imprisoned with was having the same idea.

So, Rel took a careful look around the inside of her cage, and the room. Maybe there was something she could use, or a weakness she could exploit....

"This means I will not have to regret sending back their envoy short a few limbs."

Chryseis's magic didn't really work that way, so she didn't get anything out of her attempts.

---

[Vilk - Strength Check - Success]

Vilk still managed to get the boards apart enough for him to slip down into the bilge deck. It was a hideous place, and the moment he pulled the planks apart at all he could smell the disgusting stench of water full of gods-knew-what wafting up into his face. Still, he knew it led to a way out.

Adriana successfully managed to pick the lock, in spite of not really having any particular skill with that sort of thing. She could now open the door, but the matter remained of the guards and getting everyone else out.

Meanwhile, Jordan looked around his cell and found that he may be able to reach what was left of the rat skeleton in Adriana's cell. Kyra found what looked like some rotting boards on the wall to one side of her cell, but it seemed questionable whether or not trying to pull apart a wall on a ship was very smart.

---

Rel looked around in her cell and saw very little - until her eyes landed on what looked like a shard of crystal on the floor. It looked like some of the glowing crystals she'd seen around the ship, except this one was chipped and not glowing. Trouble was, she couldn't pick it up with her hands cuffed... but the shard of whatever-it-was was close enough to the cell wall separating her from Gertrude that the noblewoman might've been able to reach it through the bars.

With a crack the rotten boards broke apart opening a hole too the stench below. Vilk was a bit bothered by the smell, though it reminded him of the sewers that were his home. But Vilk didn't have time to reminisce about the past, he needed to escape and kill his captors, preferably in their sleep.

As soon as he'd widened the hole enough Vilk jumped through it to the bilge deck, landing in the shallow((?)) water, hissing as unidentified clumps stuck to his fur. Here the stench was even worse and if it weren't for his experience living in wet stinky sewers he might have thrown up a bit. After collecting himself Vilk stretched and took in his surroundings, looking for anything he could use as a weapon or anything else useful. Perhaps a long nail that he could fashion into a nice shiv...

Dgurritz began to search around his cell to see if he could find anything that he could use to escape from his cell. As he did this, he finally discovered that his bowl of gunk was missing.

He looked up angrily to yell at whoever, or whatever, had stolen it, and saw that Vilk, the snotty little Rat-Man, was gone from his cell, as if by some magic.

The Goblin kept silent about this, however, and continued to search his cell: If he was lucky, he would finds something; if he wasn't, then maybe Vilk would come back and rescue them.

He wasn't putting much faith in either option.

---

Chryseis pointedly ignored the sarastic comments that were aimed at her (what was wrong with knowing the names of the people she would most likely die with?) and looked around her cell to see if she could find some way to escape it, or at least to free her hands.